Stolen Innocence
by SkylarkRequiem
Summary: INDEFINITE HIATUS!Eight year old Alex Rider was kidnapped from his home by the infamous Scorpia. Six years on and Scorpia sends him on a assignment that eventually lead back to old family ties. So when it comes down to it does Alex choose family or Scorpa
1. Kidnapped

**Title: **Stolen Innocence

**Rating: **T

**Pairings: **None as of yet.

**Summary: **_AU – Eight year old Alex Rider was kidnapped from his home by the infamous Scorpia. Six years later, he's one of their best assassins in training and a well accomplished spy. Everything is now routine for Alex: the killing and the spying. But then Scorpia decide to send him on a assignment that will eventually lead back to old family ties. Can Alex do what he has to do to remain loyal? Or does family means more to him then his work? _

**Disclaimer: **Of course I don't own Alex Rider. Thus the reason of the disclaimer!

* * *

**Part I: Meet Alex**

**Chapter 1: Kidnapped**

* * *

The doorbell went off for the fifth time in less than two minutes.

Eight year old Alex blocked his ears in frustration. He couldn't… wouldn't open the door because Ian had told him never to open the door to strangers when he was home alone, which seemed to happen quite a lot – staying at home alone that is.

Alex lived with his uncle, Ian Rider, and has done so for the past eight years of his life – his parents had died in a plane crash when he was less than a year old. Ian (as Alex had never been allowed to use the word 'uncle') was a very withdrawn person, he didn't talk much about himself yet he enjoyed taking Alex on vacations and teaching him new things – which Alex loved doing.

However, as much time Ian liked to spend with Alex, he seemed to spend an equal amount of time away on 'business trips' as he called them, but seemed to always come back with some strange injury such as a broken arm or various bruises on his body. Being only eight, Alex merely thought his uncle was an awfully clumsy man.

Alex's other caretaker was an American woman named Jack Starbright, she had recently moved in with them and was studying at one of the colleges in London. Ian had informed him that Jack was renting a room and would become Alex's more permanent babysitter, although Alex had insisted that she became his 'caretaker', he was too old to have a babysitter!

Anyway, Ian had taken off on another unexpected business trip and Jack was currently at school, studying. She had no time to organise someone else to look after him and so here he was, stuck at home with two strange men knocking on the front door.

Alex wasn't scared of the strangers, just annoyed that they wouldn't just give up and go away. He peered out the window again, as he was upstairs in his bedroom, and examined the navy-blue sedan parked outside on the driveway with interest. One thing that alerted Alex to the fact that the strangers were bad was that they didn't have a registration plate. Another thing was that the strangers were now pounding on the door yelling,

"Open the bloody door kid! We know you're in there."

Alex wasn't scared of the men; in fact he thought they were a little stupid pounding on the door like that. His next door neighbor, a cranky old woman named Mrs. White, didn't take well to noise and already the eight year old could imagine the strangers being chased by Mrs. White with a broom in her hands.

Giggling at the mental image, Alex looked around his room and found his cricket bat which Ian had recently bought for his birthday. Grabbing a cap from his cupboard, Alex ruffled his hair slightly before jamming the cap on his head. He then ran into the bathroom and used water to wet bits of his blonde hair so it looked like he had just been sweating.

Alex then hurried downstairs as quickly and quietly as he could, but there wasn't much point, the men were making so much noise that he could've stomped down the stairs and still not be heard.

By now, it sounded they were trying to barge the door down and Alex was left wondering why they wouldn't try and pick the lock like those people in the movies. Shrugging, he waited for a minute, secretly hoping that the strangers were going to go away, but that was unlikely because they seemed determined to come in. One that minute was up, he slammed the back door as hard as he could and ran towards the front, purposefully puffing to give the illusion he had just been running around.

With his bat in one hand and hidden behind the door, Alex opened the door a crack and stared innocently at the strangers with wide brown eyes,

"I'm sorry, but can you come back later?" He said sweetly, "My uncle's busy…"

The man standing on Alex's right did his best to put on a smile, but Alex could tell that it was forced, "Alex, don't you recognise me? It's Ash, your godfather."

Alex was surprised as the man, Ash, introduced himself as his godfather. A little thrown off, it took Alex a moment or two to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't really be talking to strangers…"

Alex moved to close the door, but Ash was quicker. The man quickly pushed the door open and Alex was forced to jump back to avoid being squashed against the wall.

"Go away!" Alex yelled, wielding his bat like a sword.

Ash smirked and took a step towards Alex, "I'm not going to hurt you, just put the bat down."

"No."

Ash frowned as Alex started backing away and took several steps to get closer to the boy. What he didn't expect next was Alex swinging the bat with all his strength and… hitting him directly in the groin. His face went white as he dropped to his knees in pain and Alex took another swing, whacking the man on the side of the head.

The other man was advancing, a big ugly scowl on his face. Alex quickly dropped the bat and ran into the kitchen. He looked around and spotted a canister of oven cleaner which Jack had used earlier before leaving the house.

Ian had always told him never to play with the oven cleaner because it contained something called sodium hydro-something that would burn his skin. Shrugging, he grabbed the canister and turned around as he heard the other man who had accompanied Ash enter the kitchen.

Alex immediately put the canister behind his back, staring at the man with wide eyes, "L-leave me alone." He whimpered, "P-Please."

The man's face twisted into an ugly sneer, "Too bad kid, you're coming with us."

"I don't want to." Alex whined, "I'm staying right here and you can't make me go."

"You don't have a choice." The man growled as he made a lunge for Alex.

Alex whipped out the oven cleaner and squirted the substance into the man's face. Alex winced as the foam started burning the man's skin as effectively as it dissolves grease in the oven.

Darting past the man's arms, Alex ran as fast as his legs could carry him towards the stairs. He scrambled up the stairs and tried to increase his speed as he heard the two men exchanging words. He presumed that Ash had recovered from his attack and was probably helping his companion get rid of the foamy oven cleaner.

Alex barged into Ian's room - which was usually off limits to him, but he was sure Ian would let him off the hook this time… after all, it was an emergency.

He grabbed the phone off its hook and began rapidly dialing the number that Ian had made him memorise in case of emergencies. Alex waited, and waited, but the dial tone just kept going on and on. He finally placed the phone back just as he heard the two men climbing the stairs and swiftly rolled under the bed. It wasn't a great hiding spot, but he was safe, for now.

"Where's that twerp gone?" The unknown man snarled.

"Check his room." Came Ash's reply.

"When I get my hands on him…"

"You will do no such thing or Rothman will have your head. Do not forget your orders."

Alex listened as their voices faded away, presumably because they had moved from the hallway and into one of the rooms, thankfully not Ian's. Alex slid out of his hiding place and crept quietly out of the room, poking his head out in the hallway to make sure the coast was clear before he slipped out of the room.

Alex started tiptoeing towards the stairs, eyeing his room warily in case one of the men decided to search a different room. That was the only disadvantage of having a room near the stairs – he had to make his way past it before he could go down the stairs.

Alex braced himself before he scurried past the entrance to his room, thankfully, the two men had been looking the other way and Alex wasted no time in climbing down the stairs, his bare feet barely made any noise as he descended.

As Alex reached the bottom of the stairs, he wondered whether he should go out the front door, or the back door. It took him a moment, but he decided that the back door would be the better option because he had quite a few good hiding places in the backyard. Happy with his decision, Alex began to make his way to the back door when he felt two strong arms grab his arms from behind.

Alex yelled in shock, he hadn't even heard the third person approach! He struggled furiously against his captor, but his captor was stronger and the grip on his arms tightened.

His captor, whom Alex figured out to be another man yelled something out in a foreign language and even though Alex couldn't figure out what the language was, he got the gist of what the man was saying.

"Let me go!" Alex yelled furiously at his captor, legs thrashing wildly.

The man replied with heavily accented English, "I don't think so." He sounded amused at Alex's attempts to get away, "I've got my orders."

Alex squirmed, and even tried biting the man's hands with little effect before Ash, who looked unusually pale, and the other man, whose face now resembled a bright red tomato, appeared with twin scowls on their faces.

"Hold him down." Ash said coldly, eyes flashing with anger. Of course, Alex wasn't too surprise at the look on his 'godfather's' face, he had hit him in the place where it would… hurt the most.

The other man moved to hold Alex's legs down, but Alex didn't give up easily. Ignoring the increasing pain in his arms, he flailed his legs, avoiding the tomato man's hands and almost landing a blow on the man's face.

After a minute, he finally managed to pin Alex's legs down as Ash pulled something sharp and pointy out of his pocket. A needle.

"Eep." He squeaked and tried to struggle again, eyes never leaving the sharp instrument. The one thing he hated the most in the world was needles, he had a particularly bad experience with them after coming down with a really bad cold and the mean doctors had continued taking blood tests. It had been terrible.

Ash smiled coldly, "I suggest you don't move, it'll hurt more if you do."

Alex closed his eyes, but did as he was told, for once. He shuddered once as the needle pricked his skin and almost immediately fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *


	2. Yassen, The Assassin

**A/N: **This chapter's a bit on the short side, sorry. For once I've actually written up a plan for a fic and there wasn't much in this chapter except for 'Introduce Yassen to Alex'.

And oh, did you know that Anthony Horowitz wrote an extra chapter for the paperback version of Snakehead? I bought the book yesterday to complete my collection of the books and I found this link in the book if you're interested in reading the extra chapter

alexrider(insert dot)com/snakehead/

Review replies are at the end of the chapter! And I hope you all enjoy the next part!

**Disclaimer: **The day I owned Alex Rider is the day the earth stops spinning.

* * *

**Part 1: Meet Alex**

**Chapter 2: Yassen, The Assassin**

* * *

Alex rubbed his eyes as he woke up from his sleep.

Wait… sleep?

Alex jerked up in his bed. He didn't remember falling asleep! The last thing he remembered was… was the bad men in his house. He frowned, that can't be right, why was he here then?

Looking down, he realised that he wasn't lying in his own bed, but instead someone else's. Those white, flowery patterned sheets were certainly not his. None of his bedspreads had flowers on them! It was way too girly for him.

Confused, Alex looked up to survey his surroundings, which he would soon found out was barely nothing except for a small bare room, approximately 4 metres by 5, with a single bed in the corner furthest from the door, but instead of noticing the details, he almost cried out in surprise when he realised he had not been alone. There was another man, sitting on one of those hard wooden chairs that you would normally see at a dinner table. The man had a pale yet smooth face; it was obvious he didn't spend much time in the sun. His hair was blonde and closely-cropped with almost feminine eyelashes, which in Alex's opinion made him look a bit girly.

Brown eyes met blue as Alex realised that the other man had been studying him as well.

"It's rude to stare." Were the first words that broke the silence between them. He tried his best to sound brave; he didn't want this man thinking that he was a coward. Especially if he was one of the bad guys. "Who are you? And where am I?"

The man seemed slightly amused at Alex's first comment, but that all faded away into his blank mask, "Usually, I wouldn't tell you," The corners of the man's lips twitched as though he was about to smile, "But considering the circumstances – your circumstances, I will. Yassen Gregorovich."

Alex stared at the man in shock, not because he knew the name – he'd never in his life heard of anyone called Yassen, but instead, because he recognised the man's voice even without the strong Russian accent. He had been one of the kidnappers. The one that had managed to sneak up behind him.

"You didn't answer my other question." Alex pointed out, trying to imitate those people he often saw in movies, how confident they usually were, and defiant.

Yassen shrugged, "There was no point, even if you knew where you were. We're only staying here temporarily, but if you must know we're currently in _La Serenissima_."

Alex brightened slightly, he recognised the Italian phrase as another name for the city, Venice. Ian had once taken him to Venice for his seventh birthday. It had been one of the few birthdays that they had ever celebrated together.

In his excitement of realising where he was, however, the fact suddenly dawned on him that he was thousands of kilometres away from home. Even Ian couldn't track him this far… Did his uncle even know he was missing? The thought of never seeing Ian, Jack and his friends depressed him. It just wasn't fair.

"Whereabouts in Venice?" Alex asked. Maybe, just maybe if he could escape he would be able to find his way back to England.

Yassen who had returned to quietly studying Alex, raised an eyebrow at his question, "I suggest it would be wise _not_ to try and attempt an escape, Alex."

Alex looked confused, had he been that obvious? "How…?"

Yassen again seemed amused, although he didn't show it on his face, "You and I know that you're not a normal eight-year old boy, Alex, some of the people you've grown up around aren't who they seem either. Also, I saw what you did to your poor godfather and Max." Alex looked sheepish at that, "So I wouldn't put it past you to try."

"What do you mean 'aren't who they seem'?" Alex looked confused and unlike Yassen, he wasn't afraid to show his emotions.

"That's exactly what I mean." Yassen replied and didn't bother to elaborate, much to Alex's annoyance.

"But…" Alex tried, but was cut off by Yassen before he could voice his objections.

"Alex, how many languages can you speak fluently?"

Alex's reply was immediate, "Three, English, French and Spanish."

"Do you know any others?" Yassen inquired.

"A tiny bit of Italian, and I've had lessons for German." Alex answered reluctantly as he was beginning to realise that he was letting Yassen learn a little more about more about himself.

Little did he know, Yassen already knew all the facts.

"Do you do martial arts?"

"Karate…" Alex responded uncertainly, he was unnerved by all the questions that were coming his way.

If Yassen noticed Alex's discomfort, he certainly didn't show it. Instead, he continued his barrage of questions, "For how long?"

"Since I was five."

"Rank?"

"Fourth Kyū (1)." Alex replied, wincing as he remembered how hard Ian had trained him before his testing for that rank which had then resulted in him being the youngest in his group, and the older kids had certainly not been happy to have him in the group.

"So you still think you're just some normal eight year old?" Yassen asked, his pale blue eyes bore into Alex's own brown eyes and he looked away uncomfortably.

"I can speak a different language and I know a bit of karate, so?" Alex glared; he hated the fact that Yassen was saying that he was not normal. All his life he had tried to fit in with the kids at school, but more often then not, he had been rejected. Alex only had a small group of friends, all of whom he was certain he would never get the chance to see again.

"Well if you won't accept who you are then you will soon, Alex Rider." Yassen said as he stood to leave.

"Wait!" Alex called out desperately, "How do you know my name?"

Yassen turned his head slightly, "I knew your father."

"Wh-What?" Alex stammered, whatever the answer was, he hadn't expected that. His father was long dead, having been killed in a plane crash along with his mother. They had been in his life for about three months before they were so cruelly torn away. Alex swallowed nervously, the fact that this stranger, this Yassen person had known his father was somewhat oddly comforting. Ian didn't talk much about his father, perhaps the pain was too much for him, but now Alex had a chance to learn about his father and he wasn't going to give that up in a hurry. In his curiosity he asked, "How?"

"We worked together." Yassen answered shortly, "He was a good friend to me."

Alex scrunched his brow, "So you were a banker as well?" Ian had never really told him what sort of job his father had, so all Alex could do was to assume that his father had been a banker as well.

Yassen laughed; a cold, humourless laugh that sent chills down Alex's spine. Little did he know, the next few words would turn his world upside down and then guide his life down a rather dark path.

"No Alex. John Rider was an assassin. Just like I am."

Alex's eyes widened and he clasped his hand over his mouth in horror as the words replayed in his mind like a broken CD, "My father was a… killer?" He whispered, "But Ian said…"

"Ian has lied to you for your whole life, Alex. Do you really think you can trust a man who lied to you about your father?" Yassen took one last glance at Alex and on that final note, he left.

There was small click as the door was locked from the outside and for the first time in his life, Alex felt truly alone. Ian, the man that Alex had trusted the most had lied to him for his whole life? What other secrets had he kept from Alex?

It was funny that Alex had believed Yassen's words, maybe he had been wrong, maybe he had just tried to use the facts against him. Maybe it was all a lie – he was not the son of a killer. He couldn't be.

Alex sighed and stared out of the small window that provided the small room with light. It had to be about mid-afternoon and to his pleasant surprise the window provided a nice view into the murky green canal that ran between the building he was in and the run down building opposite.

Alex slid off the bed, not caring that he messed up the flowery sheets, and began pacing back and forth. He must've done that for hours, just walking from one end of the room to the other, because the next time he looked up, the sun had already set and the moonlight was spilling into the room, casting eerie shadows onto the wall.

That was when he realised it, a fact that had been staring right in front of his face for this whole time. There was no doubt about it.

No one was there to save him this time.

* * *

(1) I'm not sure about karate rankings and if someone Alex's age would be able to accomplish it, so if someone wants to correct me, feel free to… what I know comes from Wikipedia –smiles sheepishly-

_Destinystar105_


	3. Slip Of The Trigger

**A/N: **Yes! Finally finished this chapter! –dances around in a circle- One more chapter after this before the good stuff starts to happen! (well in my opinion anyway) I would've posted this yesterday except the stupid internet cut off and refused to work --

Anyway, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Don't own. Never did.

* * *

**Part I: Meet Alex**

**Chapter 3: Slip Of The Trigger**

* * *

It had been three days since Alex had woken up to find himself an ocean away from home. Three days since he first met the strange yet mysterious Yassen. Three days since he learnt a surprising fact about his father. Three days since figured his life was about to change forever.

Eight year old Alex was lying on the bed with his hands on his head and a very bored look on his face as he stared at the ceiling. He had been confined to the same room for the past three days, the only time he had been allowed out of the room was to go to the toilet or to wash, but still, the bathroom was only a couple of metres down the hallway.

Alex and boredom had never been a good combination. The two just didn't mix well. When Alex got bored, bad things tend to happen like the time when he had snuck into the Spanish classroom at lunch and had swapped the teacher's files around so that the Year 2's had revoiced the work that had been meant for the Year 4's. It had been amusing at the time, and thankfully the culprit never was found, although the teacher did have some suspicious about a certain brown eyed boy…

Yassen had visited him twice since their first encounter, both times lingering around for only a short while before leaving. His first visit had been on the second day since Alex's arrival. They didn't speak much and the conversation had been very one sided with Alex ignoring every word that the assassin had said, he had even went as far as to block out all the words that Yassen said. The skill had come from years of practice in the classroom, especially when they had the more boring teachers.

Yassen's second visit was a bit more eventful then the last; Alex had grudgingly answered questions about his life such as where he had gone to school and personal detailed such as full name and birth date. When Yassen realised that all he was going to get from the eight year old were short, one worded answers, he changed tactics. Leaving the room and returning with a blue bouncy ball and a notepad along with a pen. After some persuasion, Alex had been a bit more open, yet he was still wary of the assassin, which was a natural reaction. After all, Yassen had been the one who told him about his father.

It had been a few hours since Yassen had left the room. Alex reluctantly played with the ball, tossing it against the wall and catching it again. That continued until Alex got sick of his game (which he'd only been playing for fifteen minutes, or so he thought). Alex had then tried a few karate moves he had recently learnt, but not had the chance to master. He had been so caught up in his practice that he didn't know that the man who usually brought him his meals on that same tray had arrived.

The man was in his mid twenties perhaps, brown hair and blue eyes – nothing too special. His nose was slightly crooked, which gave Alex the impression that he had probably broken it at least once or twice, and he had a scar just above his eyebrow. The man was muscular and looked more like a guard rather then the lunch lady as Alex had told him on his first day there. All he had gotton was a glare for his troubles.

Alex had been partly embarrassed that the guard had seen him try his few moves – he would, no doubt, tell Yassen about this.

Alex had finished his lunch slowly, taking one last nibble of his rather plain sandwich before he gave up and set the metal tray on the ground and now so there he was – lying on his bed and staring at the plain white ceiling (whoever had designed the room had clearly not gone for colour).

Alex sighed, another day of this and he would no doubt die from the boredom. He still had the empty notepad and pen next to him, but couldn't think of anything worthwhile to do with it. Alex wasn't the drawing type, nor was he the type to just sit there and write whatever came to mind. No, he much preferred physical activities such as sports and those other activities that Ian often took him to do.

Alex eyed the door wearily; he had to figure out a way to escape! He couldn't stand this anymore; it was worse then watching those American soapies with Jack! Come on, those TV shows should be banned and all copies of them should be sent to Mars, they always have such a predictable plotline and are way to drama-ish. And those reality shows! Someone kill him now.

Alex grabbed the notepad and pen as he sat up. That's it! He'll use the notepad as a way to write down his plans. Cheerfully, he began to write a list of possible ideas that he got from movies, and other ideas that just crossed his mind. The list just kept getting bigger and bigger until he had filled two pages.

Of course, some of his ideas were pretty far fetched so he started crossing off the one's that he had no hope of accomplishing, which turned out to be quite a lot. However, he did like the one where he blew up the door with a bomb… pity that one had to go.

After he was done crossing off just about everything on the list (they had all been almost impossible to attempt due to his limited amount of resources), Alex stared at his last two ideas before he crossed them off as well. Flipping to fresh, clean page, Alex began to scribble stuff in French, mainly things he had observed about the people he'd met during his three day stay in the most boring place on earth.

He started with Yassen; _blonde hair, blue eyes. Asks way too many questions and knew my father. Must be somewhat smarter then my 'godfather', Ash. He's a really strange person, doesn't show much expression and looks like a dancer. Could be a girl in disguise… _(That last bit was hastily crossed out in case someone actually read his notes)

_Meal man: Never talks. Brings breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday. Probably a guard._

… And that was it. In his three days there, he had only met/seen two people, Yassen and the meal guy. How fun.

Alex glared at the door, for it was the only thing that stood between him and getting out of this god-forsaken room. He'd do anything just to get out of the room without the guard accompanying him.

Alex frowned slightly and slid off his bed, walking over to inspect the doorknob, though there wasn't much to see. Just your average everyday doorknob, it didn't even have a key hole so Alex assumed that the door was always locked from the outside. Smart. Though not good for him, that just made escaping a whole lot harder.

Alex clambered back onto the bed again, partly glaring at the flower-patterned sheets. If it weren't for the cold weather, he would have torn (or at least attempted to) the sheets up.

Alex leant against the wall, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms over them. Curled up in a ball, Alex tried to imagine what was happening at home. Jack was probably crying, blaming her for Alex's disappearance. Ian would be… Ian would be sad? Angry? Alex wasn't entirely sure himself, probably a mixture of both.

Indeed now that he thought about it, Ian wasn't really around much. Alex had spent quite a lot of his time growing up around housekeepers and babysitters while Ian just disappeared into the background. The only times they really spent time bonding was during those trips that Ian loved taking him on, and even then the man had distanced himself, well to Alex's eyes anyway.

The door swung open, startling Alex out of his depressing thoughts. For a moment, he forgot where he was and immediately bounded off the bed and went into offensive mode. His fists were clenched and ready while he stood on the balls of his feet, eyes alert.

And then he found himself facing an amused Yassen.

… Why was that man always so amused?

Lowering his small fists a little, Alex regarded his visitor warily, "Oh, it's you." To be honest, he wasn't exactly _pleased _that the fair haired assassin had just decided to make an appearance; he had already made his daily visit earlier that day. Besides, Alex was half way through trying to make… think up of an escape.

Yassen arched a thin eyebrow and gave Alex a bemused look, "Three days by yourself does wonders to your manners, doesn't it?" He said, brushing off Alex's annoyed comment.

Alex glared at Yassen before reluctantly taking a seat on the bed, crossing his arms like the stubborn child he was, "I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you! I want to go home, now!" He practically screamed out the last word, but it was all an act, Alex had never acted so childishly in his life before. Unless it was to terrify his babysitters.

"I'm afraid screaming about it isn't going to help you," Yassen said in a matter-of-fact tone, "It's not up to me whether or not you go home. That's for my superiors to decide."

"But I hate it here!" Alex yelled, "I can't stand this anymore, it's just so boring. There's nothing to do and I want to go home!"

"I'm afraid your fate is not negotiable." Yassen replied evenly, "And you should stop calling it your home. The place is no longer your home."

Alex narrowed his eyes at Yassen, hating every moment that he was in the man's presence. He continued to stare at him in silence, putting all of his anger over his situation into the glare.

Yassen stared back, and to Alex's delight, looked away after a minute of silence.

"You… remind me a lot of your father." The assassin said quietly, sounding a little unnerved, "You may not be able to escape what my superiors have in store for you - believe me, it's not going to be pleasant, but I will make sure that no harm comes to you. None that I can help." Yassen promised himself, "It's the least I could do for your father."

Alex was shocked at the sudden announcement and he could not help but drop his anger against the man… for now. Realising that his jaw was still open after Yassen's small 'speech', he promptly closed it.

"But… why? I don't understand." Alex said these words slowly as though he was choosing them quite carefully. He sounded unsure and there was a bit of disbelief mixed in with the tone of his voice.

"Then you will, all in good time." Yassen replied, "But for now, saying that your father once saved my life is enough."

Alex visibly flinched at the mention of his father. Why was it, that a man he never got to meet suddenly had this huge impact on his life? Alex thought bitterly.

When Alex didn't reply, Yassen sighed and picked up the discarded lunch tray off the ground, "I better take this unless I want you to accidentally hurt yourself while practicing Karate." He said knowingly, smirking a little when he saw Alex looking up at him in surprise.

"You could hit your head if you stumbled and tripped – and what I recall, metal hurts." Yassen finished before leaving.

Alex stared at the locked door with a perplexed look on his face. Yassen was a strange man, very strange indeed.

His mind replayed Yassen's last sentence, and he got an idea.

Grinning with childish delight, Alex reached over and grabbed the notepad.

Whoever said escape was impossible?

* * *

Dinner came at last, and the meal guy was startled to find the excited eight year old waiting for his dinner. Raising an eyebrow, he handed Alex the tray and took off, muttering stuff under his breath.

Alex quickly ate his dinner – fried rice and scrambled eggs. Once done, Alex placed the bowels on the ground and took the tray, rapping his knuckles against the metal to test how hard it was. It would do.

Alex fidgeted anxiously. He had one chance to pull this off, if he made a mistake, he could kiss his hopes of going home good bye. Alex clenched his fists furiously as he realised that.

He will not fail.

* * *

Ferir Stanley was not a happy man. Not a happy man at all. He was rather pissed off that his superiors had decided to place him on guard duty for some eight year old kid. A bloody eight year old! He did not join them just to babysit annoying brats and bring them food when they're hungry. If they needed that sort of person, why couldn't they get one of the females to do it?

Ferir strolled down the hallway, keys in his hands, scowling. Yassen had ordered him to collect the kid's tray, and no one ever said 'no' to that Russian unless they had a death wish. Muttering under his breath, Ferir unlocked the door and entered the room.

He froze.

Where was the kid?

Ferir's eyes ran frantically around the room as he tried to find the boy until he realised that there was a rather obvious lump on the bed.

"Boy, what are you doing there?" He asked, making his voice as menacing as possible.

The lump twitched a little as the boy groaned out loud, "I don't feel so well." The kid poked his head out from under the covers looking dreadfully miserable.

Ferir flinched and averted his gaze. Damn kids, why do they always make you feel so bad?

"What's wrong?" He softened his tone a little, just a little bit, nothing more. He wasn't about to go all soft and mushy for just some kid.

"My tummy hurts," The kid moaned, "I think there was something wrong with the… food."

_Huh? How dare he insult me cooking! _Ferir thought furiously to himself, struggling to keep his face straight.

"OK, well let me see then." Ferir said reluctantly as he took several steps towards the bed and knelt besides it so that he was at a better height.

It was a stupid move.

The last thing he saw was a glint of metal before it smashed against his skull.

His world went black.

* * *

The man fell to the ground with a loud thump. Alex grinned with triumph as he dropped the tray and quickly scrambling off the bed. His plan had worked! And now the door was wide open for his escape, maybe those drama lessons Ian had persuaded him to take hadn't been such a waste of time after all.

Alex warily prodded the man in case he was feigning unconsciousness. The man laid still. Knowing that he was probably still in danger, Alex did a quick search of the man's pockets; finding a torch, a gun in a holster and a set of keys.

Alex pocketed the keys, but left the torch. However, he was uncertain about the gun; he had seen enough of those in movies to know that they kill or hurt people when shot at and he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted something that could do that.

_They didn't care about you. _A small voice in the back of his head said quietly, _They took you away against your will._

That little voice convinced Alex to take the gun, and so he did, biting his lip as he took the weapon into his small hands. The gun was heavier then he had expected and he needed a two hand grip just to keep it from slipping out of his hands.

Alex stuck his head out into the corridor, looking for any signs of life before he left his small prison. He walked quietly up the corridor; he was alert for any noises that would indicate if anyone was heading his way. His arms felt like dead weights as he struggled to keep the gun raised, it was a lot heavier then he had expected.

Every few steps or so, Alex would glance over his shoulder in case someone tried to sneak up on him, though that was unlikely because he would have heard them first.

"What do you think of the boy?"

Alex jumped a couple of metres in the air. He had been concentrating so hard for any noise that the first sound had startled him so much that he was still bristling. Looking wildly around, he realised that the voices was coming from one of the rooms near him. He sighed with relief as he approached the door cautiously.

"Alex is clearly intelligent for his age and is smarter then most." To his horror, he realised that it was Yassen that was talking. Alex swallowed nervously, if Yassen knew he had escaped…

"Can he fight? Like the reports said?" This time, a woman was talking, from the tone of her voice, it sounded like she was in charge.

What did these people want with him? Alex wondered as he stopped and listened, letting his curiosity get the better of him. He knew he should get going, but something refrained him from doing so.

"I would say so. He managed to handle Ash and Marcus when they attempted to capture him, and he would've gotton away if I hadn't been there. Ferir also reported that he was practicing Karate in his room, but I have not been able to assess his actual level of skill."

"Then do it!" The woman's tone was cold and harsh, "What are you waiting for?"

"Why do you want an eight year old? We have enough agents at the moment." Yassen said, ignoring the woman's question.

"I have my reasons." The woman said coolly, "Now leave."

Alex eyes widened and he started moving, if Yassen left the room then he would surely see Alex in the corridor. He rounded the corner at a fast pace and froze suddenly in his tracks.

Uh oh.

The room must've had two doors because Alex suddenly found himself facing the startled assassin whose expression went from surprise to recognition.

"Alex?" Yassen's cool blue eyes bore into his own.

Alex looked away from his gaze, and almost as though on instinct, raised the gun with trembling hands.

… And pulled the trigger.

* * *

Evil cliffhanger! Muhuahhuahua –hides-

Next update will take a bit longer, school is starting this Monday (ugh!) and it's a busy first week back (grr)

I do think that Alex is a bit too out of character for an eight year old… I mean my sister is eight and she acts like a total idiot sometimes –sigh- thank god I'm not modelling Alex after the way she acts.

I've replied to the reviews for the last chapter, but I do apologise if I forgot any of you, I get sidetracked a lot.

**Anonymous Reviews:**

(No name) : Uh, no probs! I'm a bit confused (don't worry, I'm usually confused about just about everything) but I don't think I answered a question about Ian in the first chapter. Hmm…

_SkyRider: _Thanks!

_Crystal: _Ack, school. Don't remind me -- and are you serious? I've read some of your stories for English and they're awesome! They were way better then mine!

_R-r-rachel: _Lol, I got the email for this review just as I was about to post this, so close call! And yeah, eight year old Alex is awesome!

Hope this chapter was somewhat enjoyable (and believable for Alex)!

_Destinystar105_


	4. Meeting Rothman

**A/N: **Like OMG! It's an update! I can't believe it either… I am so, so sorry that you guys have had to wait like forever for an update on this fic, you've probably forgotten what's happened. Oh well, it's only like three chapters of reading to remember all the events. I had like half of this written when I had decided to give up, but recently I've been feeling the urge to start writing again – though this time round I'm probably not so eager to write so much in a short space of time so update times will most likely than not take quite a long time.

About my other two fics (This Means War is no longer mine and is currently being written by The Shang Kudarung) I am not sure whether or not I'll continue writing them, it's just a matter of getting back into the mood for writing and remembering what I had actually wanted to write in the first place (It has been months!) But if anything is posted then… you guys will know.

Enjoy. (I hope)

**Disclaimer: **Tisn't mine.

* * *

**Part I: Meet Alex**

**Chapter 4: Meeting Rothman**

* * *

_Alex looked away from his gaze, and almost as though on instinct, raised the gun with trembling hands._

… _And pulled the trigger._

Nothing happened. There was a small click, but nothing else.

Alex closed his eyes and opened them again; blinking rapidly to make sure it wasn't just a trick of the eye. But sure enough, Yassen was still standing in front of him, alive and unharmed.

Oh, he was so in for it now.

Alex winced and swallowed nervously. What did he do wrong? Why hadn't the gun work? Alex panicked, this can't be good, all he wanted now was to dig a hole and hide from the assassin's cold blue eyes that were now fixed intensely on Alex.

"Give me the gun, Alex." He said in a pleasant voice as though he was addressing an old friend, not an eight year old who had just tried to shoot him.

"No." Alex said quietly, he barely managed to keep his lower lip from trembling as he slowly backed away from the assassin.

Yassen frowned slightly; his pleasant demeanour vanished suddenly as he advanced slowly, "The gun, Alex. Now." He repeated in a much more demanding tone.

Alex ignored him.

He was instead staring at the gun, having spotted the small words 'SAFE' imprinted in fine text on the side with a small round knob next to it. There was a small click as Alex twisted the dial and there was the unmistakable sound of a gun that was loaded and ready to go.

Yassen stopped in his tracks as it dawned on him that he was faced with no ordinary eight year old child _armed _with a gun and insistent on escaping was not a good thing. Not a good thing at all. Yassen's usually relaxed and posture faded as he pounced, grabbing Alex by the arm with a cruel look on his face.

Alex gave a startled cry as Yassen grabbed him, he jumped back with the man still latched onto him and lashed out with his fist as he accidentally pulled the trigger again.

_Bang!_

The sounds of a gun going off echoed through the corridor as a flash of pain crossed Yassen's face and he released Alex's arm in surprise.

Alex took a few steps back and watched with horror as Yassen clutched his wounded arm. Deciding that he should get going before the assassin got the chance to retaliate Alex took several more steps back and turned to flee, but was instead stopped as he ended up facing his supposed godfather.

"Uh oh."

* * *

Alex fidgeted nervously as he waited for someone to say something. After his little escape attempt and accidental injury to Yassen (it seems that Yassen's promise still didn't keep him from being hurt by Alex), Ash had dragged him into a large, plain and boring room which was furnished only a few chairs and a small television and video player on a trolley, like the ones he saw at school. Underneath the video player was a collection of tapes. Ash had then forced him into one of the chairs and told him that if he moved from the chair then he would do something that Alex wouldn't like.

So under Ash's keen eye, Alex was forced to wait quietly for whomever they were waiting for - he dearly hoped that they weren't waiting for someone to punish him and he wasn't sure how far these people were willing to go.

Alex winced. Maybe this was the repercussions that Yassen had warned him of. He had, after all, said that it would be not be wise to try such a feat…

No!

He wasn't afraid of them, they were just nasty people who had kidnapped him, taken him away from his family, or what remained of it. Alex gritted his teeth, eyes darting from Ash to the door; he wondered what his chances were of taking Ash out and then leaving. It seemed like a much more cheerful prospect then facing Yassen again…

… Then again, what was he able to do against a man twice his size? He didn't even have the advantage of surprise on his side.

Sighing, Alex sunk in his chair, staring moodily at the blank projector screen with all the contempt he could muster.

How long he sat staring at the screen, he didn't know. His mind had drifted off somewhere else.

He didn't even remember falling asleep.

* * *

Newsflash. Yassen was angry.

Yes. Gasp. The horror. The usually blank-faced, emotionless assassin was angry. In fact, he wasn't just angry, he was pissed off. Pissed off at himself for allowing him to be shot by an eight year old boy, even if it was merely a graze to the arm. He had prided himself in being one of the best assassins in the world yet somehow a measly eight year old had managed to shoot him in the arm. He should've been more careful in approaching Alex yet he hadn't and the kid's bloody godfather had seen him get injured by Alex. No doubt the fool was now gloating; Ash had never liked Yassen much. Especially not after that incident in Mdina when MI6 managed to get their hands on John Rider, his mentor.

Yassen had never really forgiven himself for making that mistake; it had cost John his life when MI6 and Scorpia were exchanging prisoners on Albert Bridge. Everyone at Scorpia had heard of the incident, but then again, Julia Rothman hadn't been too pleased with the lost of Rider. Not pleased at all that she was double crossed. Though rumour has it was John's brother who had pulled the trigger. Ah, brotherly love.

Talking about family, he wasn't entirely sure what Rothman wanted with the youngest Rider. Revenge on John's brother, perhaps? Rothman hadn't exactly hidden the fact that she had fancied the deceased Rider. Though Yassen knew that Rothman had much better ways of getting revenge, gathering from what he knew about her obsession with the Riders, she probably wanted to train the young boy and turn him against MI6 – something that Yassen didn't really approve of. Alex was so young; he didn't belong in this world. Then again, who was he to talk? He had sought out Scorpia at the age of fourteen.

Yassen smiled grimly, glancing down at his wounded arm. It wasn't bleeding… much. He should probably get some antiseptic and sterilise the wound. He turned and walked off down the corridor slowly. Now all he had to do was remember where he had left that damn first aid kit.

* * *

Some time later Alex woke up for a start. It took him a moment to realise where he was and was a little surprised, and disappointed that he was still stuck in such an awful situation. Alex pulled himself upright again (he had been tipping slightly before) and took a look at Ash.

The other man wore a look of boredom, though his face was twisted slightly and he was little paler then before and an arm wrapped around his stomach. Must be a stomach ache.

Alex wasn't sure how long he'd been sleeping for, it could've been hours, yet it could also have been just a few minutes. He didn't know seeing as he did not have the luxury of a watch and no one had bothered to stick a clock up onto one of the walls.

The door swung open – finally – and Yassen walked in with his arm in a bandage. The assassin ignored Alex has he walked over to Ash and leant against the wall with a bored expression on his face. Alex noticed that Ash giving Yassen a dirty look and assumed that the two probably weren't the best of friends.

Alex turned his attention to the woman who had walked in after Yassen. She had long black hair that reached her shoulders in waves. Her brilliant dark eyes met his and the corners of her blood-red lips twitched slightly as she regarded the eight year old. Alex looked away, shuddering, this lady had a somewhat 'dark' presence. She looked like she was someone who knew what she wanted and that she would end up getting it in the end – like a spoilt child. In her arms was a thick file which she dropped onto one of the empty seats.

The woman drew up a chair and placed it directly in front of Alex. Her long, delicate fingers lifted his chin up so that he was staring into her eyes.

"Your name is Alex Rider, is it not?" She spoke in a soft, yet commanding voice and Alex instantly recognised her as the person that Yassen had been talking to just before.

Alex nodded shyly, averting his gaze. Already he had a growling dislike for the woman and had a feeling that he wasn't going to like her at all.

"Well then Alex." She smiled and leant back in her chair, her hand falling away from Alex's face, "I'm Julia Rothman. You may call me Mrs Rothman."

Alex nodded again, his lips firmly pressed together as he tried not to look so agitated – it seemed like a very hard feat to do at the present moment in Mrs Rothman's presence.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Alex shook his head, casting a wary glance at Ash and Yassen, "They kidnapped me." He spoke for the first time in a timid voice, "They didn't bother to explain."

"Well then," Mrs Rothman started, also shooting a look in the direction of the men, "Tell me, my boy, have you ever heard of the name, Scorpia?"

Alex shook his head, racking his brains as he tried to recall any mention of the name in his past. His mind drew a blank. So he looked at her and waited for an explanation.

"Would you like me to explain?" She asked.

Alex seemed to hesitate for a moment before slowly nodding. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear, but it wasn't like he had a choice anyway… She would tell him not matter whether or not he wanted to know.

"Very well." Mrs Rothman clapped her hands together eagerly, "Scorpia is an organisation," she began, "The S stands for Sabotage. CORP is the first few letters of Corruption. The I is for Intelligence, spying. And the A stands for Assassination. These are the four main areas we work in. We're one of the most powerful organisations around, people come to us for help, and occasionally we would do the dirty work for governments. "

Alex's eyes slowly widened as he fully comprehended what she was saying, "Y-You're the bad guys. You k-kill people," He stammered, "My father worked for you didn't he?" Mrs Rothman reached over to grab his arm, but he shied away, forcing himself to get as far away as possible from her, "Don't!" He shrieked, his voice suddenly filled with trepidation and panic, "I just want to go home. That's all I want."

She hesitated and pulled her hand back, raising a quick eyebrow at Yassen before turning back to the eight year old in front of her, "We're not the bad guys Alex." She gave him a sly smile, "We just do whatever we can to earn a living, it just so happens that these are our main talents. Not everything is black and white, Alex, there are shades of grey as well." Seeing Alex's confused look, her smile broadened, "I'm referring to 'good', 'bad' and neutral." She explained.

She tilted her head slightly, "I see Yassen had told you about your father's… choice of work."

Alex nodded, giving her a glare. Not another person who had known his father! This was starting to get a bit too much for the poor eight year old

Mrs Rothman smirked, much to Alex's irritation, "And I'm sure Yassen's already told you, going 'home' is not an option."

"Because you won't let me." Alex replied.

"Yes Alex, because we won't let you." She crossed her arms, "We – as in some very powerful people – have other purposes for you." She watched him carefully with cool dark eyes, "We want you to become an assassin."

Alex spluttered at the request… no, demand. Was this lady for real? She wanted him, an eight year old kid, to work for them? As an assassin? No way. There was no way he was going to do that! He suddenly wished that he was far away, far, far away from Scorpia, Mrs Rothman and Yassen.

"No! I won't and you can't make me." Alex said in his best whining voice, "I-I…. Just leave me alone, alright?"

Mrs Rothman leant back, a curious glint in her eyes, "And why should we do that?" She asked, "We went through all that trouble to collect you from that place you call 'home' and then smuggling you out of the country. You really think we'll just let you go back after all that effort? And then of course, there's the fact that I've just told you our purpose for you and we can't have the government hearing of that now could we?"

"I won't tell anyone! I promise." Though the uncertain look that crossed Alex's face didn't pass by unnoticed by Mrs Rothman.

"Really?" She raised a thin eyebrow.

Alex paused before nodding eagerly, "I won't. No one will believe me." He said, trying to sound convincing.

She didn't fall for it.

"Tell me Alex, who would you tell the moment you get back?"

"No one-" Alex started to protest, but seeing the look on her face, he quivered slightly before whispering, "Ian."

"Your uncle, really?" Mrs Rothman looked dubious, her eyes flicking over to Ash and Yassen before returning back to him, "Tell me, how much do you know about your uncle?"

Alex blinked.

"What are you talking about?"

"How well do you know your uncle? Do you trust him?"

Alex looked affronted, "Of course I do! He's my uncle." Alex said as though it was the answer to everything.

"Even after all those time he's lied to you about who your father was?" Mrs Rothman said smoothly, watching him carefully for a reaction.

Alex hesitated, "Yes. He was just protecting me after all. He probably didn't know, I don't think… dad-" The word seemed oddly foreign to him, "-would've wanted him to know."

Mrs Rothman looked amused at Alex's answer, "Or maybe." She said suggestively, "He's hiding something from you."

Alex shook his head stubbornly, "If he is then its' for good reason."

Mrs Rothman laughed, "Certainly. It was so that you never found out the truth about who murdered John Rider."

"I don't believe you. My dad died in a plane crash, as did my mother. You're just a stupid lady who's making up things about my uncle!"

"Look at me." Rothman commanded in colder voice, "What reason do I have to lie to you?"

"A lot." Alex replied in a flat voice, his eyes still focused determinedly on the floor below him. "But why don't you just tell me what you think happened."

"Very well, your father was killed… by your uncle."

* * *

Dun dun dun. Of course, Rothman's lying to Alex, but he doesn't know that.

Don't expect quick updates, it's almost exam period and it'll probably be a while before the next update (hopefully it doesn't take as long as last time /looks sheepish/)

Don't forget to tell me what you think and feel free to yell at me for such a long update. I also hope this wasn't too crap… I'm thinking that I'm writing Alex to become an almost too perfect character –sighs-

_-EternalFlame105_


	5. The Truth About Rider

**A/N: **OK, I'm not really good with these emotional type chapters and I really struggled to write this… and to let it come out naturally because naturally, Alex would be too mature for someone his age and to be frank, I'm not sure how an eight year old would react in such a situation.

I attempted some Yassen/Alex bonding, but again it wasn't a very good part of the chapter.

To be honest, I'm a little annoyed at the response to the last chapter. Those who did review, thanks! I really appreciated it. I'm not usually this annoyed at the amount of reviews I get, heck most of the time I don't really care how many reviews a chapter does or does not get. But seriously, seven reviews for a chapter when over 200 people had read, or visited it? It's gotta get on someone's nerves. –sigh- OH well, I guess people have probably lost interest after the huge gap in updates.

_Other fics:_

Not The Only One: Not sure when this one will get an update, if ever. I'm still struggling to write the first few pages of it.

The Rider Identity: Some people have PMed me about picking this up again. I'm not sure if I'll continue to write it, but we'll just have to see.

This Means War (The Shang Kudarung): While I am not writing this anymore, Ky has told me that she is putting it on Hiatus.

**NOTE:** Parts of this chapter was based on or taken directly from the chapter 'Albert Bridge' in the book, Scorpia.

**Disclaimer: **If this was mine, why would I bother writing an AU?

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Truth About Rider**

* * *

"I-Ian?" Alex repeated, his voice filled with disbelief and he sunk in his chair, shaking his head and mumbling incoherently. "You lie." The eight year old spoke up accusingly, "It's not true!"

Alex knew that his uncle would never do that. He just _knew_ it. He had heard the way Ian would talk about his father and never had he associated the word hatred with his uncle's words or tone.

Ian would never do that.

"I assure you Mr. Rider that this is the truth. Your father was shot right in front of my very eyes."

Alex glared at Mrs. Rothman, hands clenched to his seat in anger, "You're lying!" He screamed, having the sudden urge to hurl something across the room, or at Rothman's calm and sincere face. Alex wasn't sure where his emotions were coming from; he had never lost control like that. Even when Ian had taken away his football because he had been naughty. "You don't know Ian, and you certainly don't know me. My father died in a plane crash, not murdered by his brother!"

Mrs. Rothman didn't look like she was affected by Alex's tantrum. She instead waited for him to calm down before continuing to speak. "Then why do you call him Ian? As the one person who raised you since your parent's death, shouldn't you have a much more… informal name? Like uncle perhaps?"

"Ian doesn't like being called uncle." Alex said in a harsher tone. "There is no reason why I can't call him Ian." The eight year old sounded frustrated. He was so sick of this lady. Why can't she just leave him alone?

"And why doesn't he like being called 'uncle'? Did you ever think of that?"

Alex faltered for a moment, but his resolve was soon back and he fixed his furious gaze on her again, "That's none of your business."

"It is very much my business as you are officially my 'charge' while we are here in Venice." Mrs Rothman explained, "And I am making it my business to find as much about you as I can. So I repeat my question, why do you call your uncle, Ian?"

Alex was annoyed and still angry, briefly considering giving her the cold shoulder. But he was getting tired of all these word games, he really wanted to get out of there and he figured that somewhat cooperating would do precisely that. "I dunno."

Mrs Rothman smiled, looking pleased with herself. For a moment there she had been worried that it would take a lot more effort to convince the child that she was right. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it now?" She said consolingly, though some of her smugness was seeping through her tone.

Alex narrowed his eyes, but tried to bite back the sarcastic remark he was going to make. "No, but that doesn't mean I believe you." He stated, unable to resist the urge to talk. Really, he did try. "My uncle is not a killer."

Mrs. Rothman cocked her head, dark eyes boring into Alex, "I was there when your father was killed, but seeing as you don't believe me, I'll prove it to you."

"How? Take me back in time?"

"No." She was smiling again and gesturing with her hand, "Video." Alex's head turned to follow the direction of her hand and found himself looking at the small black television he had seen earlier. While he had been talking with Mrs. Rothman, Ash had been setting up the television which was now ready to go.

"But before I show you the videos, you must understand the circumstances behind the situation." She said, "You know your father was an assassin, but he was also one of our best operatives and had been training more to become as effective as him." Alex tried not to look sickened at the story, but his head was still struggling with the idea that his father had been a killer as well. "MI6 – that's the British secret service – wanted him. Your father was captured in Malta and it just so happens that Yassen and Ash had been there as well."

"What happened?"

Alex turned to look at the two in question, noticing the angry look on Ash's face that was directed at the blue-eyed assassin. No doubt whatever enmity that lay between them had to do with Rothman's story.

"I won't go into details. Though Yassen escaped, but John was captured. Of course we expected that would be the last of him. The death penalty may have been abolished, but if MI6 had a say in it, well, accidents happen."

"But then there was a development. Scorpia had kidnapped the son of a senior British civil servant, a man with considerable influence in the government. We were going to use him as leverage to get what we wanted done, but we discovered that the civil servant was unable to do what we had wanted. This meant the boy had to die."

Alex looked sick, "You killed him…"

His comment went by unnoticed, or rather, Rothman chose not to acknowledge that he had spoken despite hearing him and instead continued with her story, "As we were about to kill the boy, MI6 got in touch with us. We made a deal. We would get John Rider back and they would get the son. Usually an offer like that we would've turned down, but seeing as this was John Rider, a very valuable asset, it was agreed that the exchange would happen." Mrs. Rothman's voice had gone quieter as she spoke and Alex was now straining his ears to hear her. Although he knew she was speaking in very simple terms, he was still trying to comprehend some of what she was saying.

"What happened next?" Alex asked, curious despite himself.

"Scorpia filmed everything, just in case something went wrong and MI6 tried to put the blame on us. But as you shall see, they tell the whole tale."

The television flickered to life, someone had pressed the button but Alex did not know who, nor did he care as the video was already playing.

The first image he saw was three men in overcoats with young man standing in front of them. His hands had been bound in front of him and he was shivering. Small droplets of rain blurred the scene.

"Those are three of our agents and, as you would've figured, the teenager we had kidnapped." Mrs. Rothman explained, "This is what we had agreed. We would bring the boy to one end of the bridge; MI6 and your father were on the other. Then they would walk across the bridge and the exchange would have been made."

The image changed and Alex felt something twist in his stomach. The camera was concealed somewhere on the edge of the bridge, high up. It was showing him his father, the first moving image of John Rider he had ever seen. He was wearing a thick padded jacket and he was looking around him, taking everything in. Alex wished the camera would zoom in closer. He wanted to see more of his father's face.

"Nothing was supposed to go wrong. The bridge was meant to be a neutral area, but we were wrong." There was something odd in the way Rothman was talking, but Alex wasn't sure what it was. His eight year old brain was more focused on the moving images in front of him.

Eyes glued to the screen, he watched as the camera angle changed, now taken by a hidden camera that was out of focus, but none of the moving images caught his attention. There was a brief moment of black before the screen was now stead, a wide angle that was perhaps taken from a boat.

The three men with the civil servant's son were at one end. His father was at the other. Alex could make out three figures behind him; presumably they worked for MI6. The image quality was poor.

A signal must have been given because the young man began to walk forward. At the same time, John Rider left the other group, also with his hands bound in front of him.

John Rider and the civil servant's son met in the middle of the bridge. They paused and seemed to speak to each other - but the only sound on the film was the soft patter of the rain and the occasional rush of an unseen speeding car. Then they began to walk again. The son was on the north side of the bridge, the side controlled by MI6. John Rider was moving south, a little faster now, heading for the waiting men.

"Then it happened." Mrs. Rothman said softly. Alex knew what she was referring to and considered turning away, but he couldn't.

Alex's father was almost running. He must have sensed that something was wrong. He moved awkwardly, his hands still clasped in front of him. On the north side of the bridge, one of the MI6 people took out a radio transmitter and spoke briefly. A second later, there was a single shot. John Rider seemed to stumble and Alex realised that he had been hit in the back. He took two more steps, twisted and collapsed.

A strangled sound came from the back of his throat. Alex choked once and broke into sobs as the realisation hit him. He had just watched his father die.

Mrs. Rothman seemed to have noticed this and made a gesture with her hand. The video stopped playing.

The eight year old started to shake uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. Alex was distressed, struggling to deal with what he had seen. But not only had he just seen his father's death, Mrs. Rothman was right. His father had been murdered, not killed in a plane crash.

"Alex…" Mrs. Rothman said quietly, reaching out a hand to him.

But Alex flinched back, shaking his head, "Don't touch me." He choked out, still crying. If Mrs. Rothman was right about his father being murdered, then she could also be right about Ian being the killer. Alex closed his eyes, wishing he was anywhere but here.

A pair of arms suddenly wrapped around him and Alex thrashed violently against the person's grip, thinking that it was Rothman. But words were whispered soothingly into his ear in a foreign language and Alex knew it could only be Yassen.

Slowly the young boy opened his eyes and turned his head, seeing the assassin kneeling besides him, with his arms around him.

Alex continued to struggle for a while before giving into his grief and leaned into the assassin's arms, searching for warmth.

Then Mrs. Rothman spoke up again, "I know this is hard, but there is still one last thing you have to see."

Alex considered saying no, but knew that if he just gave in now he would probably change his mind later. He had to see who killed his father. "O-OK." He stammered, pulling away from Yassen who let him go, but did not return to his place on the wall.

Alex tried to recompose himself, wiping his tears on his sleeves, but he knew that it wouldn't be the last of that. The crying that is.

"What does I-Ian have to do with this then?" Alex asked quietly, staring at his hands.

"Haven't you figured it yet, Alex? All those times he returned all bruised up with some unexplainable injury and all those conferences he went to, how he never seemed to be home? Surely, if you must know, you uncle works for MI6. Your uncle was no banker."

Alex looked doubtful, but in his current mood had no urge to protest. "Show me."

"This was taken from a security camera in the office block on the north bank of the Thames."

The video started playing again, flickering to a blank screen before changing to an overhead shot of a man standing beside a window.

From the angle of the camera, Alex could only make out the back of the man's head which had closely cropped hair. The man was loading a single bullet into the barrel of a rifle and occasionally checking his watch.

Then the man stopped and hoisted the rifle to his shoulder in the classic shooting position. Alex held his breath, even from that angle he could make out the faint images of Albert Bridge outside the window.

One shot later and it was all over. The man lowered his rifle and turned to leave the room.

The image stopped.

And Alex's heart sank.

For on the screen was a black and white image of a younger Ian Rider.

"You were right." Alex spoke in a hollow voice, the tears welling up in his eyes again. His uncle had killed Alex's father. Killed his own brother. The man that Alex had lived with for seven years had been the reason why he didn't have a father.

He remembered how close they had been. The many vacations they'd taken together and the sports they'd played. The movies they'd seen. They had been close, almost friends.

Alex had adored his uncle.

Who had betrayed him.

Alex was shaking again, this time from betrayal, anguish and pain. The distraught eight year old had never felt so much hurt in his life before and it was crushing him. Choking him. Swallowing him up.

So lost in his own world, he barely noticed as he was scooped up by Yassen and was being carried out of the room. Though just as they reached the door, he managed to utter a single sentence.

"I'll do it."

* * *

See? Told you I was bad at emotional scenes…

Hope it was alright…

Feel free to yell! Or leave some sort of message so that I know your reading. Feedback would be wonderful.

Next Chapter is an Interlude and will look at how Jack and Ian are dealing with things, so there's no Alex in the next one!

So do comment and until next time,

-EternalFlame105


	6. Interlude: The Choices We Make

**A/N: **Wow this took forever to write, taking up a grand total of 5,309 words and twelve Word pages. It's unedited at the moment because my eyes seemed to have gone cross-eyed from staring at the computer for too long… But I'll go over and make changes to it... after I finish studying for my science exam... This might take a while.

This chapter, or rather, interlude, is from Jack and Ian's (mostly Ian) points of view. Originally I was going to put Ian and Jack's reaction in a much later chapter as flashbacks, but seeing as so many people wanted to see what how the two characters have reacted, I decided that I would write this sooner then anticipated and get it all over and done with.

I'm sorry to say, but this would probably be my second last, or last update for the year. I'm going on holiday to Vietnam for a month and a half and probably won't be able to write much during that time. Of course, I'll try and bring my laptop with me so I can continue working on the fic, but if I can't then I guess the good old pen and paper would do… but that'll take much longer to write out one chapter.

I'm hoping to get one last update in before I leave on the 27th of November, but if not then this would be the last update for now.

Enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** It's not hard to figure out who owns Alex Rider. Just read the name on the covers of the AR books.

* * *

**Interlude (Jack and Ian): The Choices We Make**

* * *

As the old saying goes; When the world gives you lemons, make lemonade. But how do you make lemonade when there's no sugar to put in? When you have no idea what to do? Instead of lemonade you could end up with a whole lot of lemon juice instead and because you had attempted to make something with the lemons, doesn't necessarily mean that its lemonade.

It had been four days since the disappearance of Ian's nephew, Alex. Four day since Jack Starbright had arrived home to find her charge and almost surrogate younger brother gone. Disappeared into thin air.

The atmosphere in the house was quiet as Ian settled down at the dining table to have breakfast. He was balancing a breakfast plate on his arm and had a phone pressed to his ear. Ian Rider was wearing a suit with an open-necked shirt, surprisingly casual from the attire the quiet man usually wore.

Jack was already halfway through her breakfast though it looked like she wasn't paying much attention what she was shoving into her mouth. The normally cheerful redhead was uncharacteristically quiet as she ate; her eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying.

"…Yes. Alright. Just let me know when you find something."

Ian hung up the phone with a grim expression on his face. He didn't look any better then Jack, in fact it could be said that he looked worse. He had dark bags under his eyes and the almost permanent lines on his forehead showed the stress he had suffered from for the last 96 hours or so. He was also in desperate need of a shave as a fine stubble had already started to appear and it would seem that he had gotton quite a few more grey hairs.

"Anything?" Jack asked, her blue eyes looked up with a tinge of hope to them.

The police had spent two days in the house searching for evidence, but it seemed that whoever had kidnapped Alex had been very thorough when disposing of the clues. The police had been unable to come up with witnesses either as it seemed that all the residents that lived in the area had been busy that day. After two days without so much as a partial thumbprint, the police had allowed Ian and Jack back into the house, promising updates.

Ian heaved a sigh, "No. They can't find anything. Except for that cricket bat and the missing oven cleaner. He just disappeared." Of course he wasn't telling her the whole truth.

Unknown to Jack, the policemen who had searched the house weren't actually police, but were actually in fact MI6 agents assigned to the case. MI6, or more precisely, Mr Blunt and Mrs Jones, the head and deputy of Special Operations respectively, was convinced that Alex's kidnapping had something to do with the infamous terrorist group known as Scorpia. Rumours had it was that the Russian assassin known as Yassen Gregorovich had been sighted a few days around London a few days before the incident.

Ian wasn't so sure.

But without any ransom note or sign of what exactly had happened to Alex, he was forced to believe that the terrorist group probably did have something to do with Alex's disappearance. He just hoped nothing bad had befallen his nephew.

Jack seemed to sag a little at his reply, "Oh. I was just hoping… well, they've found something. I can't believe anyone would want to hurt such a sweet boy as Alex. He's one of a kind." She said with a fond smile that was tinged with sadness.

Ian chewed his breakfast slowly, not really noticing what he was eating. As long as the food kept him alive then he was perfectly fine. "Everyone's trying as hard as they can to find him."

"I know, but I wish I can do more then just sit around and wait for the worse to come."

"Nobody blames you." Ian said sharply, picking up on her tone. He looked up, his blue eyes boring into hers with the hint of disproval behind them. "But sometimes it's just best to let those who know what they're doing to take the reins. You can't do everything Jack."

"I want to help." The red-head said furiously, "Alex. He doesn't deserve this and if only I had hired a babysitter, or stayed home with him. This wouldn't have happened! We wouldn't be here wondering if he was dead or alive."

"And what would you have done had they shown up anyway? These are criminals were talking about Jack; they wouldn't back down even if you or someone else had been there to stop them. I know how their minds work, what sick things they could've done. If you had been here when they had come then who knows what would have happened? You might not be here now."

Jack flinched at his words, but she didn't back down.

"And how do you know this? You talk as though you have encountered people such as 'them' you're talking about. What the hell does a banker do hanging around criminals?"

Ian froze as he realised his little slip-up. Jack had been suspicious enough already, he should've realised she would pick up on something like this.

"I-I… It's common sense." Ian said finally, "It is not so hard to imagine what could happen. These people took Alex, a defenceless seven year old. It's just wrong."

Jack shook her head, "There's something else, isn't there? Something you haven't told me." The American leaned against her chair, arms crossed in front of her.

"There's nothing else going on." Ian denied, finishing off his breakfast and standing up. "I have to get to work, call me if anything happens."

"You should call in sick."

"I can't, I have to organise a telephone conference with a financial adviser in Singapore and there's a pile of paperwork on my desk that's waiting to be done."

Jack sighed, obviously not in the mood to argue.

"Fine."

* * *

Jack watched as Ian left the room, her jaw set in a firm line.

She wasn't stupid; she _knew _that Ian was hiding something. Everytime he came back from one of his conferences with some unexplainable injury she knew something was up, but she never pushed him for answers.

But enough was enough. Whatever Ian was keeping secret had something to do with Alex's disappearance. She could just feel it. And she will find out what this so called secret was.

Jack had family members who were bankers and she knew for a fact that they didn't go on conferences nearly as much as Ian did. In fact they always seemed to have the time to spend with their families and friends.

Ian didn't.

Jack had practically raised him since he was six. Ian was rarely home, but when he was she could tell that he loved being with his nephew. They would have vacations occasionally, but once they got back Ian was already up and running back to work. Ian could be such a workaholic sometimes.

This wasn't right.

She had seen the disappointment on Alex's face when Ian wasn't there to watch his achievements, all those football games where he would look around for any sign of his uncle, but the now eight year old had long learned to hide that disappointment behind a mask.

But she could see right through it.

This was why Jack worked so hard to be there for Alex when Ian wasn't. The poor kid had lost his parents at an early age and had grown up with Ian for his whole life. When Jack had first met Alex, he gave her the impression that he wasn't like other kids. The six year old had been so mature and intelligent, and Jack could already see that Alex had become dependent on himself.

She had wondered if Alex had been abused, but those thoughts were quickly washed away when she saw how much love was between uncle and nephew. The six year old was so sweet and reminded Jack of the little brother she should've had.

Her biological brother had died of cancer when she was thirteen. He had been four at the time. Seeing Alex had reminded her so much of her lost little brother and she had fallen in love with the sweet child.

Now Alex was gone, she would do whatever she could to bring the eight year old back home. It was the least she could do.

Jack looked up from her plate as she heard the garage door shut and knew Ian had gone. Clearing the plates away from the table, she washed the dishes before collecting her books for college. She was running a little late.

She would have to corner Ian when she got home.

* * *

The Royal & General Bank, one of the more popular banks in London and today as always was overcrowded with customers waiting in line. But this particular branch of The Royal & General had a darker secret. Behind its public face, it was the secret headquarters of MI6: Special Operations.

The tall, antique building wasn't much to look at, but on the inside it housed hundreds of government agents who worked there everyday to help protect Britain's national security. The second building was heavily guarded; security cameras were set at every possible angle with the constant plain-clothed security guards patrolling the perimeters.

A thermal intensifier had been placed at the entrance of the building to look for the tell-tale colour of cold steel of a hidden gun or knife, while further security checks would occur inside the building. Of course, the occasional civilian would wander into the building, unaware of its significance and instead thinking it was the bank. They would be re-directed by the receptionist to the next building.

No one ever suspected a thing.

Inside the building, on the fifteenth floor, Ian Rider stepped out of the elevator and into a long corridor. A series of doors were punctuated by brightly abstract paintings that had been there even before Ian had joined MI6. The doors slid shut behind him with a muffled bang.

"Ian."

The man who had addressed him looked to be in his late twenties. He was wearing a polyester suit and he had the sort of face you would forget even though you were looking at it. His name was John Crawley.

Ian nodded in his direction; his face was blank with emotion as he greeted his fellow colleague.

"John."

Crawley didn't look offended at the lack of enthusiasm he was greeted with. After years of knowing Ian Rider, he knew that the other man wasn't a very outgoing type person considering his job.

"I heard about your nephew. Blunt and Jones seem to be busy trying to track him down."

Ian's face twisted into a rare wry smile.

"It's surprising actually; I don't know why they seem so interested in this case. I expected they would've handed it over to the local authorities by now after having no leads. This investigation is going no where. The kidnappers were very thorough."

Crawley shook his head slowly; looking like Ian was missing out on the joke.

"I'm not surprised." The English man replied, "He is the great John Rider's son, and your nephew. Spying seems to run in your blood."

Crawley was one of the few people who had known about John Rider's undercover mission with Scorpia. He had in fact helped arranged some of the faked deaths of those whom John had meant to target.

Ian felt a pang in his throat at he thought of his deceased brother. MI6 had ruined his life, yet John had enjoyed doing his work. He and his wife, Ian's sister in law, Helen, had been planning to start a new life in France to raise their son in a proper environment. Unfortunately, that never happened.

Somehow Scorpia had discovered that their top agent wasn't dead and had planted a bomb on the private plane that John and Helen would've flown. He would never forget watching the security footage of his brother's last moments on earth.

It was pure luck that Alex had come down with an ear infection just days before they had left, otherwise he would've shared the same fate as his parents.

Ian rubbed his forehead tiredly, refusing to let the other man see how his words had affected him. "Sometimes I wish I chose a job with less paperwork."

"Don't we all." Crawley gave him a friendly smile, and then look down at this no-brand watch though Ian wouldn't put it past him not to have some nifty tricks inside it, "I have a meeting in… five minutes." He frowned, "I'll talk to you later."

"Sure." Ian nodded and turned to head in the direction of his office.

"Oh and Ian?"

"Yes?" He glanced over his shoulder at Crawley.

"You look like hell."

"Thanks." Ian said dryly, walking past three doors before reaching his office. The words; 1504: Ian Rider, were written on the brass nameplate.

Unlocking the door of his office, Ian walked in and surveyed the room. It was a large square room that he hadn't put much effort into personalising. Inside there was a desk and chair, a couple of sofas, in the corner a fridge, on the wall a couple of prints. An almost carbon copy of all the other offices in the building.

The blue and red of the Union Jack could be seen on the edge of his window. Crawley had often joked that he could sneak into Ian's office that way.

Ian had told him that he was mad.

Ian went over to his desk and sat down, his brown eyes running over at the various photo frames on his desk, the only things that made his office unique to the hundred others in the building. He looked over at the first photo; it had been recently taken the last summer when they had visited Prague in the Czech Republic. Alex was standing in front of the St. Vitus Cathedral located within Prague Cathedral, waving cheerfully at the camera. There was another photo tucked into its frame, Alex was aged five.

Next to the photo was another picture, framed with silver. It showed two men in their early twenties wearing cameo. They had their arms around each other's shoulders and were both smiling happily. The photo was old, taken years ago before John and Ian had joined MI6. Ian looked sadly at the photograph.

"I'm sorry John, I couldn't keep him safe." His voice was quiet as he stared at the photo, remembering the old times when he and John were growing up, "I must look stupid, talking to a picture like this." He laughed quietly before tearing his eyes from the pictures.

Ian sighed and pulled the drawer open. There were several thick files waiting for him to look over and he wasn't in the mood to do it.

The photos had brought out the guilt he had been feeling for the past few days. Ian hadn't been allowed to join the team working on Alex's investigation because of his 'personal ties' with the victim. Instead, Jones had assigned him a different case, perhaps hoping that he would take his mind off his missing nephew.

Ian picked the first file and opened it, glancing briefly at the photograph that had been paper clipped in the corner before reading the profile. He wasn't taking anything in though as he was struggling to concentrate on what he was reading. The photos on his desk were really starting to distract him.

After five minutes of trying to read, Ian sighed again and flipped the photos down gently. He couldn't concentrate.

Three loud knocks penetrated the silent room.

Ian jumped in his seat and swore quietly in Spanish. Putting down the file he had been looking at, Ian got up and went to the door.

He was surprised when he saw his visitor, but that was masked behind a mask of politeness as he inclined his head to the Deputy Head of Special Operations

"Come in."

He said, pulling the door open a little wider so that Tulip Jones could enter his office. The tall, thin woman swept past him with an air of authority around her. Her black hair had been cropped short, ending at shoulder length and coal black eyes gazed around his office with an inquiring glance.

"Our condolences for your nephew."

Ian nodded,

"I assume this is why you came." He spoke in a level tone, blue eyes wary as he watched deputy of Special Operations. He gestured at her to take a seat as he returned to his desk. Tucking the file he had been reading before her arrival back into his drawer, he waited for her to speak.

"Indeed. There has been a… lead on who the kidnappers were."

"But the investigation team said they found no reliable source to identify the intruders. Not one fingerprint, tissue or hair." Ian said, his voice betraying no hint of confusion because he was merely repeating what he had been told.

"That is incorrect, one partial fingerprint was found on the stair banister. Seems like our kidnappers missed a spot when getting rid of the evidence." Tulip said grimly. "After running the print through the system, we came up with 16 possible matches. Out of those 16 matches, only one name caught our eye. Anthony Sean Howell, former MI6 agent."

A single file was handed over to Ian and he took it numbly, looking at the photograph paper clipped to the front. He recognised that face almost immediately. How could he not?

"Ash. He's Alex's godfather." Ian shook his head wearily, he hadn't seen the man for a year. Ash and Ian had never been close, although John had considered Ash a friend despite Ash having feelings for John's now deceased wife, Helen. The last time he had seen Ash, he and Jack had seemed pretty cosy together, but Ian wasn't sure what their relationship was now although he did know they kept in contact."Isn't he with the Australians now?"

"Yes." Tulip replied. "But that isn't the point. We contacted the ASIS and Ash has called in sick for the last week. He isn't due to return until the following week."

"So you're saying that Ash's loyalties may not lie with the Aussies." Ian said, catching on to what she was saying.

Tulip nodded, "Precisely. We've suspected that he was a double-agent for years now, but we have found no conclusive evidence of this."

"Wait. Years?" The barest hint of alarm could be heard in his voice as he looked at her.

The Deputy Head seemed to hesitate before replying, "Years." She confirmed, "… Ever since John and Helen Rider's death." Her dark eyes were staring intently at Ian, trying to determine his reaction.

Ian's jaw was set in a firm line, but otherwise he didn't do anything else to show his anger. "You think Ash killed them?"

Tulip inclined her head, "The bomb, unlike what you had been told, was not a time bomb. It was remote controlled. Moments before the bomb blew up; our scanners had detected one single electronic pulse that would've been otherwise undetectable if not for the power of the scanner."

"And you did nothing, why?"

"It took months to look over all the evidence by then Ash had transferred to the ASIS and the evidence was too circumstantial for the Australian's to agree to hand him over."

"Why not just grab him?" Ian asked. MI6 was well known to bend the rules so that they would get what they want. As John had been their best agent at the time, he was sure that MI6 would've wanted John's killer locked up and would've gotton their hand on Ash anyway.

"The condition on his contract with ASIS grants him political immunity. The Australian's are good allies and getting on their bad side will cause plenty political drama."

Ian's blue eyes hardened at her reply and he raised his hands to rub his forehead. "I think you should go. I need some time to think and finish this paperwork." He said, looking down at his desk.

"Ian…"

"I really need to have them done by tonight."

The Deputy Head shot him a worried look before slipping out of her seat. "Very well then."

Ian waited until he heard the sound of the door closing before he looked up again, eyes zeroing in on the faced-down photo frames.

With a sigh, he reached over his desk and flipped the frames back up. Looking over at the smiling faces of his family, he told them.

"What the hell does everyone have against our family?"

* * *

Ian came home late that day. It was about eight when his midnight-blue car pulled into the driveway of his house. A second red Chevy was already parked to the left of the driveway and Ian knew that Jack was home.

Inside the house, Ian found the American lying on the couch in the living room watching a movie. The lights had been switched off and the television was casting an eerie glow onto her face.

Jack looked up when she heard Ian enter the room, there was a college book lying on her lap though she didn't seem to be paying much attention to it. She reached over and switched the movie off as Ian flicked the lights on.

"Ian, we need to talk."

"I know." He had been expecting this. Actually he was surprised that she had stayed with them for so long. Jack had made it well known that she did not approve of his ability to raise Alex.

Jack chewed on the inside of her lip with a thoughtful look on her face, "I've been thinking about this a lot and…"

"I understand," He cut in, "With what's happened to Alex and all, you probably wouldn't want to stick around here any longer. It's alright, Jack… What?"

Jack was staring at him with a raised eyebrow and an amused half-smile. She shook her head and replied, "I'm not leaving. Actually I wanted to tell you that I'll be sticking around for a little longer. I've applied for a permanent visa."

It was Ian's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Jack nodded eagerly, "Yeah, London's a lovely place, not quite like New York but in a good way. I've actually had a job offer and I think I might just accept it. Its good pay and isn't too far away from the college."

"Ok…" Ian dragged out, "You can stay as long as you want. You know that, right?"

Jack gave him a warm smile, "Yeah. And…" She seemed to hesitate, "… someone's got to be here for Alex."

Ian tensed, blue eyes looking at Jack with sorrow, "… If he comes home, Jack."

The red-head pursed her lips, "Of course he will. You have to believe it. Ian don't look like that, you look like someone's died. Alex is not dead. He's still out there somewhere and he's coming back. He has to." The last of her words came out sounding like a desperate plea as she furiously brushed the forming tears out of her eyes.

"Look at it from a logical point of view, Jack. It's been four days. There's no ransom note, the police haven't found anything and no Alex. If his kidnappers hadn't made any demands by now then…" Ian trailed off. He just couldn't finish the sentence, but he knew Jack would get the point.

But she just shook her head.

"I don't understand you, Ian! Alex is your nephew and you sound like you're already convinced that he's d-dead. He's only eight."

"Humans can be cruel." Ian said monotonously.

Jack looked furious. "What the hell are you keeping away from me Ian? And don't give me all that bull crap that you've got nothing to hide. I may not look like the brightest of the bunch, but I can tell that there's something you've been hiding from me, and Alex." She said, swinging her legs off the couch and standing up so that she could see eye-to eye with Ian, "The conferences, the strange injuries, leaving in the middle of the night and disappearing for weeks before returning, strange people knocking on the door and asking for you. Hell I've even seen your gun on a couple of occasions but I didn't say anything about it. Why on earth does a bank employee carry a gun around?"

Ian, for once, didn't know what to do. He could be honest and tell Jack the whole truth, but he wasn't comfortable with revealing his secrets. His other option was to make up a story on the spot and at the moment he was straining to do so.

"The gun… It's for protection."

"Yeah right." Jack said flatly, "I'm a law student, Ian. I looked up gun laws and it states that to earn a licence, the reason for owning the firearm must be either sporting or work-related. As I cannot fathom why a banker would need a gun, try again."

"OK, so the gun is illegal then. I did get it for protection." Ian answered, sounding sincere even though he was lying through his teeth.

"From what?"

"Criminals."

"And why would criminals be coming after you?" She demanded, taking a step closer.

Ian held her gaze firmly, "Better to be safe then to be sorry."

Jack crossed her arms across her chest, "Alright. So say you do own an illegal gun for protection, how does that explain all the other things?"

"There is nothing to explain. The Royal & General is a major bank in the UK and many of its branches are offshore. Managing finances for a lot of these branches causes one to move around a lot."

"Even in the middle of the night?"

"If it is an emergency, then yes." He replied, "I am not hiding anything from you."

Jack narrowed her eyes. She didn't look convinced."The injuries then. You and Alex are the adventurous type and I've rarely seen you come back from your vacations with a single scratch on you, yet when you come home from a conference you've got a various lot of injuries. Broken bones, nasty burns, bruises, scratches and you even managed to knife yourself once. Is there something wrong with this picture?"

"I'm much more accident prone at work."

"Doing what? Bashing yourself with a calculator?"

Ian sighed, "I have no idea how most of these accidents happen… They just do." He rubbed his head tiredly. He didn't have the time to deal with this now, telling the truth was looking more and more favourable at the moment.

Jack seemed to notice his fatigue and her frown softened. "Take a seat Ian." She said, looking over at the couch and taking a seat.

Ian complied without protest, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the cushiony softness of the pillows.

"Look Ian. I just want to know the truth." Jack said, deciding to take a gentler tone, "I'm tired of all the lies and the deceit. Call it womanly intuition or something, but to me it looks like you were preparing Alex for something. The kid's bright; he can speak two languages fluently while other kids his age struggle with English. He does karate, he loves extreme sports and he's incredibly observant, more then people two or three times his age. Alex is no ordinary kid and I think that you have some goal for him. And all this has something to do with his kidnapping. I can't shake this nagging feeling I've got. You know more then you're letting on."

Ian's lips curled upwards into a slight smile, "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you the truth." He stated, "And you're right, Alex isn't ordinary."

"Try me." Jack said, "Maybe it's more convincing then the lies you've been spouting out just now."

"I doubt it." Ian was smirking now, "But if you're so eager to know then…"

"… I'm a spy. A secret agent working for MI6 and being a banker was just a cover."

Jack's eyebrows shot up almost comically, "Ha. That's a good one. But seriously, Ian?"

"I was being serious."

"Right…" Jack replied, her blue eyes scrutinising his face carefully. Doubt flickered in her eyes as she looked at him.

"You really are being serious, aren't you?" She asked after a long silence.

Ian nodded.

"I-I guess that explains a lot then."

"Indeed."

Jack stared at him and looked like she was struggling to process the idea that Ian Rider was a spy. Her mouth was open with a small 'o' before she closed it again.

"Why didn't you tell us? It would've saved Alex a whole lot of disappointment." She said sadly. Her hands were shaking as she gazed down at her lap.

"What's past has past, no matter what I explain; it doesn't make much of a different. Alex is still gone."

"I would still like to have and explanation." Jack replied, "I don't understand why you kept this from us. You know I'm trustworthy."

Ian nodded, "I know, but that's not the point. My work is dangerous and I pick up a lot of enemies. I didn't want anyone remotely close getting hurt because of me. That is why; as you may have noticed I don't seem to have many friends and don't date around." His eyes were focused on Jack as he answered. "It was better, for all of us that you and Alex got to live your normal lives. I didn't want my work to get in the way of Alex's upbringing."

"But don't you see? Your… job… has already disrupted his raising. Alex _needed _you. Needed your approval. He tried so hard to make you proud, but you were never there. I've seen him search the soccer stands for you before every match, seen him search for you just before grading for Karate. He needed to know you were there, but he didn't and I don't think he understood why. Only that his uncle was a workaholic." She looked up at him with eyes full of accusations.

"As for myself, I would've wanted to know. I'm not a child anymore, I'm not frightened off so easily. I think the truth would've been so much easier to accept then all those wild theories I had in my head." Her mouth quirked into a half-formed smile, "But as you said, better safe then to be sorry. I don't see why that wouldn't fit in with this situation as well. If Alex and I had known the dangers, then maybe I wouldn't have been so careless as to leave him home alone, even if it was only a couple of hours."

Ian knew she was right. He should've told both her and Alex about his real occupation earlier. Actually, looking, back, Ian could see the many mistakes he had made in raising Alex. He knew he wasn't perfect, but realising those mistakes still hurt.

"What's done is done, no matter how much I want to go back and maybe make a different choice to those I had made. I just hope these mistakes don't cost Alex." Ian closed his eyes and seemed to struggle with his usually blank mask.

Jack, as though sensing the emotional turmoil he was going through, leant over and gave him a hug before standing up.

"I'm going to bed. There's an early lecture tomorrow at college I need to attend." She said, "Dinner's in the oven."

"Thanks."

"Someone has to look after you." She smiled, "Goodnight Ian."

"Goodnight Jack."

* * *

And there you have it! The second longest chapter I have written ever. Longest being chapter 3 in TMW.

And when you review, I would like to ask you guys a couple of question about the direction of this fic (I'm not one to change the course of a fic because of what some people think, but I am interested in some input into the story)

**Q1:** Would you like to see some of Alex's training in future chapters, or would you rather I skip ahead six years to the main plot of the story?

**Q2:** As this would also be an alternative Stormbreaker re-write as well, do you think a teenaged spy working for MI6 (that's not as good as Alex, of course) should be introduced as well?

**Q3:** I need to think up of a codename for Alex when he's in the field. Any suggestions or would you rather I stick with 'Cub'?

**Q4: **Any characters from canon you want to see? (Sabina, Tom, etc.)

That's all and I would like to say thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter, you guys really made my day :)

Until next time (whether it be in the next week or after I come back, which should be the 13th of Jan)

-EternalFlame105


	7. Destination Malagosto

**A/N: **Looks like I managed to give you guys one last chapter before I leave after all. This one is, most definitely my last chapter for the time being (and one I wrote while I was meant to be studying for my Maths and Geography exam _).

I want to thank everyone who reviewed and gave me feedback on my questions, they were very helpful :) Of course, with such a big variety in opinions, some might not like what I do while others will, but I figured that seeing as this is my story, you'll just have to live with the decisions I make.

I've decided that because otherwise I might drag it out for too long (as I have a habit of doing) that this will probably be the last full length chapter you will of Alex being eight. The next time you see him, he'll be fourteen. Don't panic if you wanted to see training because there will be flashbacks to his training at relevant times :)

As for the Stormbreaker plot, I'm still contemplating what will happen. As there was a mixed reaction considering another teenage spy, I'm thinking long and hard about I want to do because after all, the plot isn't set in stone.

Alex's codename you'll have to wait and see what I decided. No point in telling you all know when you can find out in the next couple of chapters :P And canon characters. Jack and Ian will definitely be seen as will Mr Blunt and Mrs Jones. The SAS will most likely make an appearance as well. Tom and Sabina I'm not sure of as I cannot at the moment fathom how they will appear but who knows, maybe a minor appearance might happen. Again you'll just have to wait.

And enough of my ramblings for now… I'm sure a loft of you have probably skipped the Author Notes and went straight to the story *looks around suspiciously*

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Well I do own Alex Rider… See the lovely books sitting on my bookshelf at the moment?

…

Course I'm not Anthony Horowitz. Why would he want to screw up his books so much?

* * *

**Part I: Meet Alex**

**Chapter 6: Desination: Malagosto**

* * *

Alex had only gotton a few hours sleep after his rather eventful night. He had tossed and turned on his flower-printed bed, but he just couldn't get rid of the images that replayed in his mind. John Rider dying. Ian shooting him. He had tried to use the relaxation methods that Ian had taught him, but just the thought of Ian made him stop and clench his small fists in anger.

It must've been early morning before Alex had finally drifted off into his fitful dreams only to be disturbed a few hours later by a cold-faced man whom Alex remembered as the one he had smashed the metal meal tray into. He had been given a change of clothes and a bowl of cereal before being told to 'be ready in fifteen'.

After he had changed and got some breakfast in his stomach, only then did he realise the severity of his decision the previous night.

The one to join Scorpia.

And he panicked.

Alex had acted on an impulse, his grief and desire for revenge had driven him to an almost hysterical state and now he realised that he probably wouldn't last through what Scorpia had planned for him.

He wasn't a killer. Not like Ian or his father.

Trembling, Alex pushed his breakfast away and curled up into a ball, staring blankly at the door in front of him. Why for once couldn't he be normal, like everybody else? He had known before Scorpia had came for him that he was different, compared to his friends and classmates it was safe to say that none of them had the lifestyle that he had. Not that he had hated it; he just wished that his uncle had spent a bit more time with him. He had been jealous of the other boys on his soccer team; they always had family cheering in the stands and if it wasn't for Jack, then that kind of support would have been almost non-existent for him.

And that was how Yassen found him five minutes later. The Russian's eyes softened as he saw the miserable eight year old and he knocked gently against the mahogany door frame to gain Alex's attention.

"We're leaving. Now."

Alex nodded slowly and rose to his feet. Yassen was already out the door and in the corridor, seeming to understand his need for privacy and for that Alex was grateful. From earlier observations, he had realised that Yassen was a lot like… Ian. He cringed at the name.

Both men were anti-social and seemed the most comfortable in the silence rather then loud noises. Yassen, he noted, liked to sit back and observe quietly rather then interact with others. Ian was a private man and Alex had rarely seen him start up a conversation without someone initiating it first.

Alex gritted his teeth as he thought of his uncle. Just because of a few words and a short video, his life had been turned upside down. Everything he had known; how could he not question what had been sincere and what had been lies?

He followed the assassin silently; the soft pad of his shoes trailed the assassin's almost silent steps as they walked. Alex also noticed that Yassen no longer had a bandage on his arm, but the short-sleeved black shirt he had worn showed the carefully done stitches that had replaced the bandage.

Alex felt a little guilty for shooting the assassin.

"Where are we going?" He asked quietly, his voice was a little hoarse but while Yassen seemed comfortable with the silence, Alex desperately needed someone to talk to him. To distract him from his thoughts.

Yassen looked over his shoulder.

"Malagosto."

"Where is _that_?"

* * *

Malagosto, as it turned out, was an island a few miles off the shores of Venice. It served as a training ground for Scorpia's recruits and trainees where they were trained to kill. Its official name was Scorpia's Training and Assessment Centre. Yassen had explained some of its history to Alex as they travelled to the small crescent moon shaped island by motor launch. Apparently it had once been a small, thriving community living there. But 'once' could be described as a long time ago, in the Middle Ages. The island had been looted in 1380 during the war with Genoa and afterwards was used for victims of the Black Plague. If you as much as had sneezed in Venice, you would've ended up in Malagosto along with others suffering from the plague.

When the plague had died out, it became a quarantine centre and later on, in the eighteenth century, became a sanctuary for the insane. It was finally abandoned and forgotten for hundreds of years before Scorpia had bought the island from the Italian government in the mid-eighties.

If anyone asked, they were told that Malagosto was now used as a business centre where lawyers, bankers and office managers came for motivation and bonding sessions. This was, of course, a lie. But an effective one at that as no Civilian or non-Scorpia operative had ever set foot on the island since Scorpia had bought it.

And would soon become Alex's new home.

Alex sat in front of the motor launch, his gaze focused in the distance, watching as the island drew closer. The silver scorpion on the bow of the boat glistened in the sun while Yassen sat opposite him, totally relaxed, though there was an unmistakeable bulge of a gun by the waistband of his trousers.

Even from the distance, Alex could just make out the outline of a crumbling building and wondered if the rest of the island looked like that. Run down with wild grasses and other various weeds overtaking buildings. Looking over at Yassen, Alex even asked if it was so.

The assassin looked amused, "No, that is merely a cover to discourage anyone from going there. The rest of the buildings are in… better condition though nothing that would be state of the art. We don't want other government agencies zeroing in on us from satellites."

Alex nodded and turned back to the front, enjoying the feeling of the wind in his hair, but not so much the spray of seawater that was getting in his eyes. They were fast approaching the island, he could see the bell tower looming over the canopy of trees, leaning crookedly to one side and looked like it was going to fall any moment. Sort of like the Leaning Tower of Pisa in Italy, but less stable.

The boat soon pulled in towards the island, losing speed as Yassen manoeuvred it towards a jetty, carefully concealed in the natural fault line of a rock so that nobody could be seen arriving at or leaving the island. The engine was cut and Yassen gracefully leapt ashore, with the ease of a ballet dancer Alex had once seen in a dance production.

Alex climbed out after Yassen, feeling awfully clumsy as he almost fell flat on his face when he stumbled over the ledge of the boat. The only reason he didn't fall was because Yassen's strong arms had caught him and pulled him onto the jetty without any further incidents.

"This way."

Yassen motioned with his hand as he released Alex and allowed the younger male to steady himself. Alex followed him, still a little tipsy from their boat ride and having his feet on firm land again.

The rather strange pair that could past off as father and son walked up a long twisting path through the trees. It was obvious that the path had been walked many times in the past as it was well-worn and the vegetation was less dense. Even Alex's untrained eyes could pick up the faint shoe prints left from previous path-travellers.

Their whole journey was quiet, the only thing that stopped it being classified as 'silent' was the constant chattering and buzzing of wildlife and insects alike though Alex was curious as to what kind of animals would live on Malagosto.

Once they had passed through the copse, a large monastery appeared. Its great walls were peeling from age and neglect. Alex found it hard to believe that this monastery housed a training ground for spies and assassins alike. The only sign that the building had been adapted to modern times was the keypad with a build-in camera that had been fixed to the wall next to the huge wooden door which had a smaller one set into it.

Yassen entered the code while Alex gazed around in awe at his surroundings with childish wonder. A small electronic buzz caused Alex to jump as the smaller door opened automatically.

Yassen walked through the door, turning and raised an eyebrow when he realised that his companion had not followed.

"Well?" He inquired with a raised eyebrow. Alex jumped again and scurried after the Russian, still a bit exhausted after their trek through the copse.

He found himself in an open, green courtyard. Three out of four sides of the courtyard were cloisters while the same crooked bell tower Alex had seen earlier rose above the fourth. A roof slanted inwards, providing shade and covering all three cloisters.

The ground was a neat rectangle of grass and two trees stood side by side at one end. In the centre of the rectangle shape of grass was a small group of six men and women. One of the older men was dressed in black while the five others were in white robes that were usually associated with martial arts with the exception of belts. The man in black was obviously the instructor as he led the group, stepping out as one and lashing out with their fists in almost perfect synchronisation. A shout followed –the kiai Alex recognised from his own karate lessons. A short yell that came either directly before, during or after the execution of a strike or technique.

Alex watched with silent fascination as the instructor led the group in several more strikes and techniques taken from a variety of martial arts including Taekwondo and Karate.

"Sometimes, with the silent kill, it is not possible to shout out," the instructor said. He spoke with a Russian or Eastern European accent. "But remember the power of the silent kiai. Use it to drive your chi into the strike zone. Do not underestimate its power at the moment of the kill." (1)

"That's Professor Yermalov." Yassen explained as he gently pulled on Alex's arm to indicate that they should be going, "You'll meet him soon enough."

Yassen led him across the courtyard and Alex couldn't help but feel self-conscious as he noticed a few glances he was getting from the group in the middle. Obviously children were a rare sight at Malagosto.

They went through an archway and into a vast room with a colourful mosaic floor; ornate windows, pillars and intricate wooden angels had been carved into the walls. Long tables, sofas, and a hatch leading into a kitchen beyond. The ceiling was a dome shape and carried the remnants of a fresco.

There was one lone door on the opposite side of the room. Yassen went over and knocked. Alex hung back, looking unsure.

"Entrez!" A voice called from within. He, for the voice was almost certainly male, was speaking in French and sounded friendly.

Alex cast a look of doubt at Yassen who merely pushed him through the open door with a nonchalant look on his face.

Alex let out a muffle cry of protest as he stumbled into the tall, octagonal room. His jaw dropped, "Whoa." He said as he took in the room, if it could be called that. The ceiling was almost twenty metres high, but to Alex, who was a lot shorter then the rest of the occupants, it looked even bigger. The ceiling had been painted blue with silver stars, a strange decorative choice for someone who worked for Scorpia. Tall book cases lined five out of eight walls and a ladder on wheels reached the top shelved which reminded Alex of one of those old private libraries you see in films. An iron chandelier was suspended from the ceiling by a heavy chain.

The middle of the room was occupied by a huge desk by certain standards with three antique looking chairs; two in front, one behind. The last chair was currently occupied by a small, plump man in a suit. He was staring intently at his laptop computer, occasionally pressing a few key strokes. His gold rimmed glasses along with his neat black beard and grey hair looked almost comical in Alex's opinion and he had to bite on his cheeks, hard to keep from bursting out into giggles.

After a while, the man finished with his laptop and looked up at his guests. "Ah, Mr Gregorovich and our newest student." The man said with obvious pleasure, "Alex Rider. I would've known who you were easily if we had met on the street. You look very much like your father." He spoke with a slight French accent, but otherwise his English was perfect. "I am Oliver d'Arc and I am, as you might say, the principal of this institute. Or headmaster."

Alex looked at d'Arc with a bewildered look as the eccentric man talked. Maybe the stars on the ceiling weren't so strange after all…

"Sit down, Alex. You must be tired… You too Yassen." D'Arc said pointedly staring at the assassin.

Yassen seemed to sigh before ushering Alex forward.

He and Yassen sat down on the antique chairs, and Alex once again looked uneasy. A plate of sandwiches was on d'Arc's desk and he couldn't resist glancing at the plate every now and then. After having only a couple of spoonful of breakfast earlier, Alex was now famished and the plate of sandwiches looked so tempting.

D'Arc seemed to notice his not too discrete looks at the plate and laughed, "Those are for you. I assumed that you would be hungry after that walk." Alex brightened and picked the top sandwich as the French man turned then to Yassen, "You can eat as well. I don't want you in the medical bay because of your lack of nutrients, again, and gods know your insomniac problems don't help."

Alex turned his head to look at Yassen, who looked oddly embarrassed at being reproached by the older man. "I already ate." Yassen said stiffly.

"More can't hurt."

The Russian looked like he was going to protest, but then d'Arc cut in, "They're not poisoned. I made them myself."

Yassen gave d'Arc a narrowed glare before picking up a sandwich and taking a small bite out of it.

Alex almost snorted at the Russian's antiques, Yassen was really that paranoid?

D'Arc seemed happier now that his guests were eating, "Good. Now Alex, am I right to assume that Mrs Rothman has told you a little bit about Scorpia?"

Alex nodded, chewing on his sandwich. Quickly swallowing the piece he had in his mouth, Alex added, "You want to make me an assassin." He said softly. "But I don't want to kill people." His eyes were downcast as he stared at his feet.

"Oh no, no, no. You won't have to kill people if you don't want to. Despite what you might think, there are other activities you can do that don't involve killing people." He said, "Otherwise government intelligence agencies would not have allowed us to last this long without much persecution. You can be very useful to us, for example, spying. Or being a courier. Who would ever suspect someone like you carrying drugs around or explosives? There are so many things that children can get away with without raising suspicion while an adult can't. Here we will discover what you can and cannot do and from there choose assignments that would suit you best."

"But what if I'm not good at anything else?" Alex asked, "What then?"

D'Arc chuckled and shook his head, "You're only eight and you've shown some talent. How many boys your age can speak more then one language fluently? Or perform a roundhouse kick that well?"

Alex's eyes went wide. "H-how did you know that?" He said nervously, he wasn't so comfortable with the fact that these people knew so much about him.

"Research." D'Arc replied. "We had to make sure that we weren't making a mistake when we decided to train you."

"And you think I can do it?"

D'Arc nodded, "Otherwise you would not be here. But what's past has past and now I must tell you the programme. Seeing as you are a unique case here, we had to alter things slightly for you, but otherwise I'm confident you'll be just fine." The grey haired man beamed, "I think Yassen?" The man in question nodded, "Yes, Yassen will be your mentor for the next few months. He will personally train you until he deems that you are ready to begin training with the other students. There are never more then fifteen here, and at the moment we have eleven. I am sure you will get to know some of them better over time." He said, "But before any of that happens, you will be medically examined as well as psychological testing. We will also take some tests to see your level of fitness and aptitude so that Yassen will have an idea of what he has to teach you. This will happen in the next couple of days and after that things will become routine." D'Arc smiled, "I think we can expect great things from you, Alex. You are very young, but you are John Rider's son and he was the very best."

"But I am not my father. I've never met him." Alex stated, his brown eyes gazing at d'Arc with uncertainty, "I don't know if I can do it."

"You will Alex, you will. You can't know if you don't try, eh?"

"I-I guess." Alex said, stifling a yawn.

"My boy! I think you should be getting some rest. You must be exhausted." D'Arc exclaimed, catching his yawn. He looked over at Yassen, "You and Alex will be sharing a room. Just in case…" There was a warning glint in his eye that Yassen seemed to understand.

"I know." The assassin spoke for the second time since they had entered d'Arc's office.

"Very well. I will see you again at lunch."

Yassen nodded and stood up, leading Alex out of the room.

"He's very short." Alex commented, glancing back as they re-entered the main hall.

Yassen shot him an amused look, "Indeed." The assassin agreed, crossing the hall and walking into a corridor that Alex hadn't noticed before. It too had a high ceiling, though not as high as the one in d'Arc's office.

They passed a classroom and Alex couldn't help but stop and peer in curiously. The room itself looked like it had once been a chapel, but no longer as there were now desks and a blackboard occupying it. There was a teacher standing in the front, drawing a diagram on the board while about half a dozen students listened intently each had several wires and what appeared to be a matchbox.

"…You need very careful and precise hands here. Wire the explosive wrong and you'll blow us all up… That's exactly what I said not to do Mr Russel."

Alex looked up at Yassen who had stopped as well, pausing at the door.

"That's Mr Ross. Technical specialist." Yassen explained patiently, "You'll get to meet him and the other instructors later."

They moved on, leaving the main building and headed towards an apartment block. Alex looked worried for a moment as he took in its neglected appearance, but as they entered the building, he discovered that the building was very much modern and elegant on the inside.

Yassen showed him to their room on the second floor. The living area was surprisingly large and spacious with sofas and a desk. There was a balcony with a sea view and Alex also noticed that there was a fridge, a television and even a PlayStation that he presumed was for him… He didn't think that Yassen would enjoy video games.

"My room is the one on the closest to the door, and yours is other one." Yassen pointed out as he looked around. "I have some… matters to attend to so feel free to have a look around and rest. I'll be back later to collect you for lunch."

"OK." Alex said, already heading towards the room that Yassen had said was his. He was eager to catch up on the few hours of sleep he had missed out on.

"Wow." Alex murmured as he heard the door close behind him. He was in his new bedroom and it was just as impressive as the living room had been. There was a king-sized bed in the middle of the room while a set of drawers and a lamp had been arranged next to the bed. Alex was relieved that his bed sheets weren't flower –printed like the ones back in Venice.

Kicking his shoes off, Alex went over to the build and climbed onto it, relaxing into the soft mattress. He stared at the ceiling wearily wondering how his life could've changed so much in such a short amount of time and he wasn't even sure if he liked the change or not.

Dark thoughts rose from his mind as he thought. Was he making the right decision? Did he really want to be what his father had been? Alex bit his lip anxiously.

He would just have to wait and see.

And with that last thought, Alex Rider drifted off to sleep.

**

* * *

**

**End Part I**

* * *

(1) Quote from the book _Scorpia_

I hope that wasn't too boring… It was more of a filler chapter rather then action packed funness and again it hasn't been edited except for a quick run through spell check so there might be some grammatical errors lying around. Descriptions of Malagosto and the Scorpia training centre were all based off the book.

**EDIT: **I've started (or will be when I figure how to get the damn thing to work) a new poll in my profile regarding several codenames I've been toying with, I'm interested to see which one you guys think would best suit. (Notice there is a key theme between each name I chose myself)

So… just drop a comment by and tell me what you thought and be sure to have a safe holiday. I'll see you guys next year!

Signing off,

-EternalFlame105


End file.
